Heavy Breathing
by Trish47
Summary: Annie needs more time to recuperate after a failed mission and Auggie has the perfect solution. . .to stay at his place and take a nice, relaxing bath. Will she accept his offer? Gradual Augnie. Enjoy and please review! Complete!
1. Breathe

**Hi everyone! This is a short multi-chapter fic (four parts) dealing with Auggie and Annie in a hurt/comfort capacity. Each chapter is pretty lenghty, so grab a plate of cookies (or whatever you like to munch on) and your favorite beverage, and enjoy! :)**

**Note: This was written before the season finale-or before Ben was even back in the picture-but I didn't change it based on the finale. I feel it still works. Also, I'd like to thank my wonderful Beta who loves to obsess over this show just as much as I do. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Covert Affairs_ or it's colorful characters. I just use them to play out little fantasies in my head and amuse my friends. I'm not making any money.**

* * *

**One: Breathe**

"No visual."

Auggie hears the unease work its way into her voice; it's such a subtle vibration that Jai doesn't pick up on it. Chances are Annie doesn't hear it either, but Auggie's been through enough ops with her to recognize the slight tremor beneath her words.

Jai hovers over Auggie's shoulder, a few inches away from literally breathing down his neck. Jai's proximity puts Auggie more on edge than he already is. He knows how crucial it is that this mission go smoothly. He realizes how much is at stake.

What he doesn't need is Jai watching the blinking dot on the computer screen. Auggie takes the action as an insult. It's like Jai feels Auggie can't effectively track the location of the package and its carrier, even though he's been through a hundred ops like this one. His fingers twitch over the keys, following Annie's movements every time she takes a step.

"This Enrique guy is a no show." Annie's statement is sharp and clear in their headsets.

"Do a second sweep of the plaza," Jai instructs. "Yellow tie reading the _Santa Barbara Times_. Maybe you missed him."

"It's not her first exchange," Auggie mutters.

Even if Annie isn't the most experienced agent, Auggie has seen a dramatic difference in her field performance over the past year. She's far from perfect, but he has faith in her abilities—all her abilities except hand-to-hand combat that is. When it comes to fighting, Annie is a slow learner. He would know; he's been giving her lessons for the past few months.

"I've been here ten minutes," Annie says, "This doesn't feel right. The exchange is a no-go."

Jai removes his headset and slams it on the desk in disgust.

"This was a simple, by-the-book operation. All she had to do was locate our contact and make the exchange."

Auggie tries to suppress a smile at Jai's flare-up.

Though he never likes when an operation goes south, this time he's making an exception. Jai needs to have his ego wounded a little and realize that the world doesn't always conform to his plans. His contact didn't show, and because of that precious information was lost. Maybe it should concern him that now the Agency doesn't have the intel Jai's Columbian contact was supposed to give them in exchange for a hefty monetary incentive. To some point it does. Still, Auggie likes hearing Jai lose the cool, composed façade he parades around the office.

Auggie tells Annie to go catch the next flight home, hangs the headset around his neck and turns to face Jai. He can't miss an opportunity to rib his co-worker.

"I'm glad I won't be the one to brief Joan about this one."

"I'll never hear the end of it. She'll have my head."

"On a platter."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" Jai responds sharply.

"I'm good now. Thanks." He raises his lips in a half smile. Jai snorts, then exits Auggie's office. It's refreshing to have his space back.

Returning to his keyboard, Auggie locates Annie through the tracking device on the suitcase of money she's carrying. Except the dot isn't moving anymore.

Auggie replaces the headset and asks, "Annie? You there?"

Her quickened, soft breathing sounds in his ear and Auggie strains to hear everything. From the background noise coming through the headset he forms a mental image of Annie standing in the middle of a deserted California alley.

Speaking in a whisper she says, "I found Enrique. He's dead."

The next sound he hears is a grunt, followed by a thud. There's one baritone voice speaking Spanish, then another male voice answers the first. A third speaker offers an opinion of the young American operative.

Annie groans as she rises to her feet. Auggie types furiously at his keyboard, trying to find a satellite in the area to get a visual of the situation.

"Jai!" he calls out over the office white-noise. "Jai, get in here!"

Whether or not he enjoys Jai making a fool of himself doesn't matter anymore. He needs eyes to tell him what's going on. He needs to know what Annie's up against, if she has a chance. Three-to-one odds aren't good, but three armed attackers against one standard pistol are even worse odds. Auggie fights with the mental images of the worst-case-scenario as he continues typing.

Rushing back into the office, Jai asks, "What is it?"

"Annie, talk to me," Auggie says softly but firmly. When there's no response, he answers Jai. "She's been ambushed."

The sounds of her struggle come over the headpiece. Crates and other objects that Annie uses to put space between her and her assailants crash against the asphalt street and brick walls of the alley. Every second or so comes a cry of pain—some from Annie, some from the men—mostly from Annie. Her heavy breathing matches the racing of Auggie's heart.

The satellite is still repositioning, but they don't need to see what's going on to determine that Annie's on the losing side of the street fight.

"She might not make it out of this one," Jai states.

Auggie pins Jai against a wall in his office in less time than it takes to exhale. The lapels of his suit jacket are crumpled in Auggie's fists, which shake with the desire to punch the man.

"Your contact was compromised. You were the one who requested Annie for this mission. She's out there because of you!"

"I didn't know Enrique was being followed."

"I don't care. If Annie doesn't make it back. . ." Auggie can't bring himself to say anymore, can't even think about the possibility of losing Annie.

"Get a hold of yourself, Anderson."

Slowly, Auggie lets go of Jai's suit and returns to his seat. What was he thinking? That little outburst could cost him if Jai were to report it. Joan may reassign him to a different field operative. It's his job to watch out for field agents by guiding them through missions, but being over-protective of one agent—especially a specific female agent—could bring unwanted attention from Joan, Arthur, or the shrinks in the psych department. He needs to keep whatever this attachment to Annie is under wraps or risk losing everything.

"Auggie!" Annie pants his name. She's running. "Need. A. Route."

Pulled back to the task at hand by her voice, Auggie reaches for his keyboard and looks up her best escape route to a local safe house. He starts to give her directions, but he's cut off by the sound of gunshots.

"Annie!"

Another trio of gunshots. . .

Annie cries out and falls to the ground with a hard thump.

Auggie holds his breath as he listens to the approaching footsteps. A million thoughts race through his mind, but three questions shoot to the top of the list: Was she hit? Where? Is she still alive?

The last question makes his hands clam up. He's never lost an agent before. He can't start here. He can't lose her.

"Annie!" he calls again.

A soft whimper is the last sound Auggie hears before Annie's earpiece is crushed under the foot of her shooter.

* * *

It's not fear she feels when she's losing a fight—it's frustration. For Annie, fear doesn't seep in until long after the fight is over, when she's at home in bed and reflecting on her missions. Until that time, the adrenaline fuels her and her anger—at herself and the enemy—keeps her punching.

There are times when staying to fight will get you killed. This might be one of those times, Annie realizes, rolling from side to side from the pain in her shoulder—delivered by her own gun, no less. She dropped it while fighting for her life in the alley, deciding to run instead of trying to pick it up. It was a stupid mistake—a rookie mistake—that cost her big time.

The shooter's tall frame blocks out the light of the sun so that Annie can only see the outline of his body. She imagines that he's smiling while pointing her commandeered gun at her head, waiting for his two comrades to catch up to him.

She can't give him that kind of time. If she can disarm and restrain him before his friends show up, she might actually have a shot of making it out of this sticky situation alive. Even though the man above her has her gun—and even though the bullet wound in her shoulder makes the corners of her eyes water in pain—Annie likes the one-on-one odds much better.

_Kick at the knees._ Her sparring sessions with Auggie come to her mind, and she suddenly knows what she has to do.

She smashes the heel of her boot against her attacker's right knee, making him collapse to a kneeling position. Acting quickly, Annie uses both her hands to grab the man's right forearm—the one holding her gun—and she flips him over her body as she pushes herself into a standing position. The gun drops to the ground in the process and Annie kicks it away.

Her attacker starts to rise, cursing loudly in Spanish, but Annie uses her elbow to knock him out. As he falls to the ground, Annie turns to retrieve her gun. But when she turns around, another of her assailants rushes her, grabs at her waist and throws her to the ground. She feels like she was just tackled by a linebacker.

Annie barely draws a breath before the man's hands are wrapped around her throat, crushing her windpipe.

_Karate chop the forearm_. Again she follows Auggie's tutoring and manages to break off the man's grip. Using her elbow, she hits him in the head to daze him, then pushes his body off of hers. She searches for her weapon and sees it lying next to the first unconscious Columbian.

Before she can reach it, the second man recovers and pulls out a switchblade. The sunlight glints off the blade as it slashes through the air. Annie pivots, but the blade skims off her cheek. She screams at the sudden, sharp pain. Blood pours from the wound, dribbling down her neck and onto the fabric of her shirt.

She manages to avoid the second and third swings of the blade and dives for her gun. Without thinking, she turns and shoots, hitting her attacker in the chest. Police sirens and the wail of an ambulance sound in the distance, drawing nearer.

_Auggie_, she thinks when she hears them.

The third Columbian runs to the mouth of the alley, sees his associates lying on the ground—one with a pool of blood forming underneath him—and decides to take off instead of staying to fight. Annie doesn't have the energy to go after him. The adrenaline buzz is starting to wear off and she's more acutely aware of how much damage she sustained during her scuffle.

Annie takes a quick assessment of herself and her injuries. The gunshot wound in the crook of her shoulder hurts like hell, but she knows it's not life-threatening. If it had hit any major organs, she wouldn't have been able to fight back; she'd be dead by now.

Blood still seeps from the cut on her face, so she rips a piece of fabric from the bottom of her shirt and applies pressure to the area, which only makes it hurt more. The pulsing pain almost eclipses the throbbing ache in her shoulder.

With her free hand, she digs her emergency cell phone out of her back pocket and dials Auggie's extension.

* * *

"Annie? Talk to me."

"One dead, one in custody, one at large."

That wasn't the information he was seeking. "What about you?"

"Still here, still breathing."

"Always a good thing," he says, though he can't begin to describe the intense relief he truly feels. "I sent a team. They should be there in two minutes."

"Good. I don't want to drive myself to the hospital."

He knew she would be hurt, but it still makes his stomach sick. "How serious?"

"Not bad enough to keep me from taking the first flight outta here."

Auggie can tell that she's trying to make light of the situation, but doesn't call her on it. He knows that it's a way of dealing with the stress, pain and fear.

"Go to the ER, get cleared by the doctors and then worry about coming home," he tells her.

"I'll see you in the mornin'."

* * *

He fiddles with the package under his desk. Auggie isn't sure how he went from a simple get well card to buying Annie a present complete with gift bag and tissue paper. Somehow a card didn't seem like enough, but now he thinks he's overdone it.

Signature heel clicks stop outside his office and ruin his plan to trash the gift and just greet her with a glad-you're-alive-hug. It scares him that the hand clutching the package starts sweating; he hasn't been nervous around the fairer sex since high school. And why, of all the women in the world, would he be nervous around Annie Walker?

Annie moves into the office and sees that both of Auggie's hands are under his desk. She slides up behind his chair and says, "Hand check!"

He grins as he brings both of his hands up, one empty, the other gripping what he hopes is a green gift bag with white tissue paper. "You caught me."

Annie's eyebrows lift in surprise. "For me?"

"It's nothing special," he says, standing and handing it over. They lean against the edge of his desk together, their bodies only a few inches apart.

Paper rustles as she reaches in the bag, grabbing the bottle and reading the label. "Bath salts?"

Auggie immediately regrets his choice. He knew he should have stuck with a card.

Annie sees his face fall and raises her hand to his shoulder. "I like them, Aug. Don't get me wrong. I just can't imagine you in a store buying lavender-scented bath salts."

"My masculinity suffered greatly."

She laughs. "Why bath salts anyway?"

"I admit to stereotyping. I know all women don't like baths, but you seemed to be one of the ones that do. Plus they help with the aches and pains."

"I think you're just trying to get me naked."

His grin widens. "If all it took was bath salts, you'd be a very cheap date, Annie Walker."

She nudges her shoulder against him, but her chuckle is replaced by a hiss of pain. Her wounds are still too fresh for joking. The short pause in their banter lets the conversation take a more serious turn.

"How are you doing?" Auggie asks.

"I'm sure this is just the beginning of my injury history." She tries to minimize the shakiness in her voice, but Auggie still hears it. "Being shot sucks. And, I was able to cover up the handprints on my neck, but I don't know how I'm going to explain this cut on my face—"

"What cut?"

Before she can answer, Auggie steps in front of her and raises his hands to her face. The tips of his fingers rest along the curve of her jaw while his thumbs gently brush over her cheeks. It doesn't take him long to find the cut she's talking about.

Starting just beside her nose, the stitched gash runs to just outside the corner of her left eye. Annie watches his reactions play over his face, and bites her lower lip to keep it from trembling. She's never been touched so tenderly, never had someone so genuinely concerned about her well-being before.

"Annie. . ."

As he continues tracing the line on her face, a tear crosses his path and Auggie's thumb smears it over her wound. He pulls her into a strong hug. Let the office gossips talk; right now Annie needs the comfort of an embrace, and he's the one who's going to give it to her.

Disregarding the pain in her shoulder, Annie hugs him back with all her strength. The tears in her eyes caught her of guard and she uses the moment to rein her emotions back in.

Then Auggie whispers one word and she almost crumbles: "Breathe."

Annie listens and inhales deeply. It feels like the first breath she's taken since getting shot. After another moment in Auggie's arms, she pulls away and he takes a step back. The intimacy of the moment scares her. Auggie—the man who always has a quip or witticism—can also be super intense.

"Thank you," Annie says.

"If there's anything else I can do. . ."

"Help me come up with a cover story for my sister? She thinks I was going to California to pick up some artifact for the Smithsonian."

"And it's going to be hard to explain why there are bruises and cuts all over you."

"Right." Annie sighs and rubs her hand up and down her arm. "I hate lying to her."

Auggie thinks for a moment, not sure if his offer will overstep the boundaries of their relationship—whatever that relationship is exactly.

"Don't tell her."

"She'll still see the cut."

"Not if you don't go home."

"What're you sayin'?"

"Crash at my place. Just 'til you can cover it up."

Sometimes he really wishes he could see people's reactions. But her silence is enough.

"I can hear you frowning."

"Auggie, I couldn't."

"Why not? Just tell your sister that your trip was extended. And no one from the office has to know. It would just be for a few days."

Annie admits that it's hard to resist such an offer. She really doesn't want to face her sister just yet. A few days to regroup would be wonderful. She just isn't sure that spending so much time around Auggie is a good idea.

"Wouldn't I throw you off your groove with the ladies?"

It amuses him that her first concern is about his dating life. "The ladies can wait. You're the only important lady right now."

"How can a girl say no to that kind of sweet talk?"

* * *

Annie dries off from her bath and pulls on one of Auggie's t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. They're both a little big for her, but it's been a while since she's been in clothes this comfortable. After cleaning up her things, she shuffles out into Auggie's living room and lowers herself onto his leather couch.

Even though she's been inside his apartment on multiple occasions, she still loves looking around. His apartment is the epitome of bachelor pad, though his furniture is more high-end and the place is clean. Still, it's obvious that a single male lives here.

She looks behind her to see Auggie in the small kitchen, grabbing two bottles of beer from his fridge. Inside his home he doesn't use his laser cane, and Annie thinks that he's memorized the layout of his apartment so that he can appear as normal as possible when guests come over. That would explain why everything is neatly in its place. He's even more confidant in his home than he is at the office. Annie realizes that she admires him.

He closes the refrigerator door and joins her on the couch. "Thought you might want a drink."

"You thought right." She takes the bottle, opens it, and takes a swig. "And thanks again for letting me crash here."

"Not a problem."

The silence between them is companionable. Annie can't stop thinking about Danielle and how easily she accepted the lie she told her earlier that afternoon. When they were little, she used to be able to talk to her sister about everything and ask her for advice. Now she's forced to keep most aspects of her life secret. It makes her feel alienated from her family, from the one family member she has left.

"I hate how I can't tell Danielle anything," Annie says.

"You do it to protect her." He knows it's not a comforting answer, but it's the best one he has. It's hard to keep the ones you love out of your life. There's no way around that fact.

"It's just frustrating. I can't even vent about work anymore."

"Well, you know my number. . .and where I live. . ..You can always vent to me."

Annie lets her head fall to his shoulder and closes her eyes. She plays with the condensation on the outside of her bottle, rubbing it in circles around the glass and peeling at the label.

"When I was fighting, all I could think of was our sparring sessions."

"Oh yeah?"

"It was weird. Like I could hear you telling me what to do."

Auggie doesn't know how to respond, so he agrees with her. "That is a bit strange."

"But it helped me make it out of there." Her voice is soft and reflective. The movement of her hand on the bottle slows. "I guess I should thank you for that."

Auggie feels the bottle tipping onto his lap and takes the bottle out of her hand before she spills beer all over him. He puts both bottles on the floor.

"Anytime you want a sparring partner, look no further."

"I will keep that in mind." The words come out in a murmur.

He doesn't know if she realizes how close she's snuggled into him. Not that he minds. Her body is soft and warm against him. The scent of lavender reaches his nose and he smiles. Gently, Auggie moves his arm to rest around her. His hand pushes back a strand of hair from her face, wondering how she'll react to the intimate gesture.

But she doesn't react at all. Auggie listens closely to her breathing pattern. Asleep.

Instead of waking her, he pulls a blanket off of the back of the couch and covers both of them. Auggie shifts and leans back until his neck hits the armrest. Annie's head steadily falls from his shoulder to his chest, and she mumbles something unintelligible against him.

He smiles again, inhaling the soothing scent of lavender.

* * *

**A/N: If you've made it all the way to the end, I'd really love to know what you think so far. I'm still experimenting with the Auggie/Annie realtionship/friendship thing, so any constructives would be greatly appreciated. Or you can just tell me if you liked it. It's always nice to hear. I especially love reviews picking out a favorite line or two. ;) And I'll always show my appreciation with a review reply.**

**I'll be updating this next Wednesday. I hope you'll join me for the next installment. :)**


	2. Breathing

**Holy story alerts, Batman! All I can say is thank you for your responses and encouragement with this story. I'm deeply flattered. As promised, here's the next chapter. Grab those munchies and happy reading! ****Enjoy!**

**Notes: Thanks to my Awesome Beta! And a special thank you to Marie Elaine Cullen for helping me translate Auggie's words, because the only Russian phrase I know comes from the animated movie _Anastasia_. :) **

**Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off of this story because _Covert Affairs _does not belong to me. Sadly, it never will. **

* * *

**Two: Breathing**

_Beep! Beep! Beep!_

Being woken by the shrill cry of the fire alarm is not how Auggie enjoys starting his day. He bolts awake and inhales deeply, then coughs on the smoke slowly filling his apartment.

Mild panic comes across in his voice when he calls out, "Annie?"

"Your apartment is not on fire, Auggie. I swear."

He removes his shirt while he moves to where his alarm is mounted on the wall, then waves the shirt like a fan to disperse the smoke and stop the beeping. It quits screeching after a few passes.

"Open the window," he says while he continues to fan the alarm.

Annie swears under her breath as she holds the smoking pan in one hand and opens the window with the other. Giving up on the eggs in the skillet, she drops the pan into the kitchen sink and turns on the faucet. The water hits the pan with a sizzle, sending up another billow of smoke, but it quickly cools.

"I think you can stop doing that now," Annie tells him.

Auggie comes over to stand beside her, misjudges the distance between them and bumps into her. Annie tips backward and throws out her hand to catch herself from falling. The back of her hand connects with the still-hot stovetop.

"Ow! Hothothothothot. . .." She immediately pulls her hand into her chest, rubbing the minor burn.

"Dammit, Annie, I'm sorry."

He feels for her injured hand, careful not to touch it and leads her by the elbow to the sink. He tests the water to make sure it's cold, then holds her hand underneath the stream.

"Stay there for a minute," he says, then leaves.

A few moments later he comes back with something small in his hand.

"It's really not that bad," Annie says truthfully. "Just a little sting."

"Well, this should take most of the sting away."

He hands her the cylinder.

"Why are you giving me Chapstick?" Auggie hears the incredulity in her voice.

"It'll help with the burn. Trust me."

He turns off the water and she pats her hand dry before she applies the lip balm. Upon contact, the Chapstick soothes her skin. Who knew?

"Thanks," she says, embarrassed by the whole situation.

He motions to the room around him with his hands. "What were you doing? Or should I say, what were you trying to do?"

"I was just trying to make you some eggs and bacon as a thank you."

"I'm guessing you don't cook very often."

"It's my sister who has the dinner parties, not me."

"Duly noted."

Annie catches herself staring at his chest and admiring his toned body. She would have never expected that kind of a physique to be hidden underneath Auggie's work clothes. Sometimes she forgets that he used to be a trained field operative—which explains all the muscles—instead of an office techie. She clears her throat and forces herself to stop looking at him; if she keeps ogling, she may lose the little bit of control she has and try to touch him. That type of behavior can only lead her into more trouble.

"Uh, so, should I try and give it another go?" she asks. "I'm sure you're hungry."

"Usually I subscribe to the whole 'if at first you don't succeed' thing, but how about I make us some waffles and coffee instead?"

"I like your idea better," she says with a smile in her voice. "Do you need any help?"

"Nah, I've got this. Step aside and let the waffle master get to work."

She laughs as he pretends to roll up non-existent sleeves and tilts an invisible hat in an elaborate display to show that he's getting down to business. Annie hops up on one of the open counters, watching the muscles in his back flex and move beneath his skin as he makes breakfast.

The tattoo on his back intrigues her. The sword and arrows scream masculinity. It reminds her of military mementos soldiers often have.

"You know, it's not polite to stare." His words snap her back to attention and make her face turn red.

"I was not staring." She doesn't even sound convincing to herself.

"I got it when I was with the Special Forces in Iraq."

He plates the waffles and tops them with strawberry preserves. Annie pours the coffee. They sit at the island in the kitchen and start eating.

"You have any other interesting tattoos?" Annie asks.

Auggie grins at her. "You'll have to find that out by yourself."

Her jaw drops slightly, but she narrows her eyes at him and playfully asks, "Is that some sort of challenge?"

"I'd call it more of an invitation."

His quip is rewarded with the sound of her laughter. The Cheshire grin on his face grows and he pulls off a wink in her direction.

"Does the flirt in you never sleep?"

"Never."

* * *

Auggie and Annie walk arm-in-arm into the office. It's nothing unusual for them, but this morning feels different. They are more comfortable with each other, but also more tense. For someone he has known only a year, Auggie finds that he trusts Annie to lead him when they walk; something he hasn't let another person do in a long time. He stopped using his laser cane when they're together after only a few months of knowing her.

"Do you really think it's a good idea for you to be here today?" he asks.

"Why wouldn't it be?"

Her fake nonchalance makes him question her even more. "Annie, it hasn't even been a week since you were shot."

Annie subconsciously adjusts her arm in the sling around her neck. "I want to know who those guys were, why they killed our contact and why they tried to kill me."

"Even if Joan lets you watch the interrogation—and that's a big if—you're not going to get that information. They were contract killers. Their only motive is money."

"But who was paying them?"

Auggie can see that trying to convince her to let it go is a losing battle. Her curiosity and drive are two of the things he most admires about her, but they are also the two qualities that will get her into a significant amount of trouble in this business.

Annie stops suddenly and squeezes his bicep to make him stop with her. She inhales sharply and Auggie feels her tense up.

"Good morning, Joan," Auggie says, nodding at his boss in acknowledgement.

"Why are you here?"

The question is not directed at him, but at the woman beside him. Her fingers tighten around his bicep a little more.

"I, uh. . ..Is that a problem?"

Annie doesn't see how Auggie remains so calm when faced with their intimidating superior. Maybe it's because she hasn't worked for the woman very long—or maybe it's because Joan could end her career with one executive order—but Annie is always on edge in her presence. And the way Joan regards her with a cold, almost annoyed gaze doesn't help ease her nerves.

"Go home, Annie. You're not of use to anyone in your condition."

"But. . ."

"If you're not at a hundred percent, I don't want you here."

"I could do paperwork." Annie doesn't want to go home and spend the day doing nothing.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Joan's sensible heels click away, getting softer and softer. Annie exhales loudly when she's out of earshot.

"She thinks she can just boss everybody around," she says.

"I'm not going to even comment on the logic behind that statement."

She harrumphs and Auggie can visualize her pout.

"I guess I'll see you back at the apartment," he tells her.

"Are you sure it's still okay for me to stay there?"

"How's that cut?"

She sighs. "Still too raw to put a decent amount of foundation on it."

Auggie digs in his pocket and pulls out the key to his apartment. He also takes out a five dollar bill. Annie takes both items.

"What's the money for?"

"So you can buy yourself lunch instead of making it." It's too much fun not to tease her.

She nudges him with her hip and says, "I'll see you later."

She slips out of his arm and starts walking, heels clicking along the hallway.

Auggie turns and calls to her: "Try not to burn the place down, okay?"

Annie decides flipping him the bird would be fruitless. Still, her middle finger itches all the way to the exit.

* * *

It's nearly nine o'clock when Auggie gets back. He shuffles out of his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket, then pads over to the fridge. He reaches for a beer, but finds a bigger bottle where he normally keeps his stash of alcohol. Taking it out and sniffing the contents, he determines it's a bottle of red wine. And from the weight of it, he can tell that a glass or two has already been poured.

He finds another wine glass in his cabinet and carries the bottle with him, leaving the beer for another night.

"Annie?"

"I'm in the bathtub."

He stops outside the bathroom door and leans his head against the wood.

"Enjoying those bath salts?"

"Oh, you have no idea," she says with a hum of appreciation. "You can come in."

"You sure?"

"I trust you not to peek."

The little jab at his handicap doesn't bother him like it used to. Coming from Annie's mouth, he knows the comment isn't meant to be cruel or demeaning.

Auggie opens the door and joins her, sitting on the closed toilet seat. The steam from the bath coats the skin on his neck and face, filling his nose with the subtle scent of lavender.

"Most women trust me with that." He holds up the bottle and offers her a smile. "Need a refill?"

Annie looks down at her empty glass then back up at him. "How'd you know?"

"It's my little secret."

She lifts the glass until it touches the top of the bottle. Auggie tips the neck slowly, listening to the wine climb the sides of the glass.

"That's good," Annie says. "Thanks."

Auggie pours himself a glass and holds it out in the tub's direction. "To bath salts and looking like a prune."

"I'll toast to the first part," Annie says through a chuckle. They clink glasses and drink.

"So," Annie begins, "tell me what happened after I was banished from the DPD. Did you get any information about the mercenaries' employer?"

"I knew you didn't just want my company. You only want me for my inside access."

"I hate being out of the loop. I don't like just sitting around and not being able to do anything."

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah, I know how that feels."

His voice drops to a near whisper and Annie can sense the masked pain behind his words. She gazes at him for a long moment as she sinks lower into the warm bath. How could she complain about something like that? She can tell her comment hit too close to the vest.

"I didn't mean it like that," she stammers.

"I know. But that doesn't change the fact that it's true."

Normally Auggie makes light of his blindness. To see him opening up like this. . ..She doesn't think he does this with just anyone.

"You miss it," she says quietly. "Working in the field."

"At times."

He tries to sound dismissive, like it doesn't bother him. But she knows it does. Auggie can't go into the field anymore-at least not as much as he'd like to. Annie can't imagine not being sent on missions. Without field work, she'd go crazy in that office, pushing papers and analyzing threats day in and day out. Even with a more fast-paced job like Auggie's, Annie knows she wouldn't be satisfied. Field work is what keeps her energized.

"You don't have to deny it."

He empties his glass of wine and sets it on the bathroom floor. "I was a badass field agent once. Arguably one of the best. And it all ended just like that." He snaps his fingers to emphasize his point. Annie sees that his head has drooped a little and his shoulders have slumped. He looks defeated.

"There are times when I feel useless."

He hears the water slosh around in the bathtub as her hand comes up to grip one of his own. "Auggie, don't ever think that."

"I was useless to you when you were attacked and shot out in California. If I had been on that op with you, that wouldn't have happened."

"I was on that op alone, whether you could have gone or not. I would've still gotten shot." She turns in the tub, pressing her breasts along the inside edge so she can grasp both of his hands with both of hers.

"Auggie, if it hadn't been you listening in, I might have been a lot worse off. You dispatched the police and the EMTs. Those sirens scared off that third mercenary. If he had decided to fight me, I'm not sure I would've won."

Though her words aren't completely truthful, she hopes they are true enough to make him realize how important he is to her and how great he is at his job. He's essential to the Agency. Annie knows she wouldn't have made it this far without his help.

Auggie can't accept the credit for her victory. "You were the one out there fighting."

"Your voice was the one telling me what moves to pull."

He shakes his head. "That was just a defense mechanism. Your body was telling you how to survive. It just happened to sound like me."

"Stop selling yourself short, August Anderson. People at the Agency depend on you. I don't know what I would do without you there."

Her speech is so passionate, so convincing that he almost believes her. He wants to believe her. He's just not fully convinced.

"I'm still learning how to accept that fact," he says. "It's hard."

A chill runs through her and Annie realizes that the water in the tub is colder than her body temperature. Bringing her hands back into the tub, she pulls the plug to let the water drain.

Auggie sits up straight at the sound. Then he stands, saying, "I'll let you get dressed."

"Will you promise to think about what I said?"

He pauses in the doorway, nods, then walks away.

* * *

"I thought you'd appreciate fresh bed sheets," he says as he stretches the fitted sheet over one of the mattress corners.

"Auggie, I am not kicking you out of your bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"No you won't."

She helps him pull the sheet across the mattress. "It's enough to just let me stay here a couple days. Really. This is your bed."

"I'm giving it up. If you don't use it, no one will. And that would be a shame, because it's a very comfortable bed."

"You're not going to budge on this, are you?"

"Can't get anything past you tonight, can I?" he says as they pull the comforter back over the clean bed linens. Auggie grabs a pillow and makes his way toward the door, leaving her with a common Russian phrase he picked up from his ex-girlfriend: "Spokoinaia noch."

He hears her mumble something about him being a "stubborn brat" and just smiles as he settles himself onto the couch in his living room.

* * *

Most women he dates don't end up spending a full night at his apartment, so Auggie is completely tuned in to every movement Annie makes while sleeping. She tosses her body around and occasionally whimpers loudly enough for him to hear. This pattern lasts into the early hours of the morning. He wonders what she's dreaming about, because an active sleep like that means something won't let her rest.

A little after two o'clock the movements suddenly quit.

The mattress springs squeak as she gets out of the bed. When she comes out into the living area, she stumbles and stubs her toe on an end table. She swears quietly as she hops on one foot, squeezing the pain out of her extremity.

As she passes the couch on the way to the kitchen, Auggie speaks up. "You sure do make a lot of noise when you sleep."

Annie gasps. "Holy crap! You scared the bejeezus outta me!"

He laughs quietly. There's something about the night that requires everything to be softer, even laughter.

"What are you doing up?" he asks.

"Sorry, I was trying not to wake you." She reaches the refrigerator and rummages around until she finds the half gallon of milk.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"It's embarrassing," she responds, pouring herself a small glass of milk.

"Tell me." Auggie sits up, and she joins him once the jug is put away. There is hardly any space between them; her hip rests against his.

"I was having a nightmare." She doesn't elaborate. When Auggie doesn't immediately react she adds, "See, it is embarrassing."

"Actually, it's pretty normal."

"It's embarrassing that I woke up scared, that I can't sleep."

"You saw it happening again," Auggie says knowingly. "The fight with Enrique Ignacio's killers. The shooting."

"Uh-huh. My shoulder aches just thinking about it."

"Again, what you're feeling is normal."

Annie takes another drink, feels the cold liquid travel all the way to her stomach. She looks up at Auggie—sees the tiredness in his eyes and his tussled hair—and knows he hasn't gotten much sleep either. Her gaze drops back to the glass in her hand.

"Did you have nightmares after your accident?"

"Still do. But, I only have them once every couple of months now. You get used to it."

"Oh, that's very encouraging."

She's quiet for a moment. Auggie doesn't know what else to tell her. She knows that it comes with the territory, so there's not much more comfort he can offer.

"You didn't have one last night, did you?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

"I wonder why."

"I wasn't alone last night."

"You think sleeping on the couch with me prevented your nightmares?" he asks.

She finishes her glass of milk. "My sister used to sleep in my bed when I had nightmares. We'd talk until we were both exhausted. It always helped. I think just knowing she was beside me kept the bad dreams and the monsters at bay."

Her childhood memory lingers in the room like a question that needs an answer.

"Are you asking me to sleep with you, Annie Walker?"

"Maybe. . ..Would you?" Her cheeks heat, humiliated that she has to ask more of him.

"All you had to do was ask."

A wave of relief passes over her; she wasn't aware so much rested on his answer.

Annie stands and pulls him to his feet. They go into his room and lay on the bed. Annie wonders if she'll be able to sleep at all tonight. Images from her nightmares fill her mind every time she closes her eyes. Even if she didn't have those images to contend with, Auggie's laying so close to her that she thinks sleep will be next to impossible.

She hadn't expected sleeping together on a bed to be so different from sleeping on a couch, but it is. She realizes it's been almost three years since she's shared a bed with another man—a man other than Ben. Loneliness she wasn't aware had been left by her former lover takes hold. Now she'll never get to sleep.

She tenses momentarily when Auggie drapes his arm across her waist and reaches up toward her pillow, seeking one of her hands. He reminds her that she's not alone anymore; Auggie is with her.

"Relax," he breathes against her, "I know a better way than talking to make you feel exhausted."

She lets his fingers find the spot on her wrist they're looking for. "What, exactly, are you doing?"

Auggie resists the urge to pull her closer to him; he doesn't want to scare her or make things between them awkward. "No funny business. I promise. It's just a pressure point to make you tired."

His thumb finds the dip in her wrist, then moves slightly to the right. Auggie applies gentle pressure to the bone directly under her pinky finger on her wrist. He rubs his thumb slowly up and down the point, adding and releasing pressure.

Annie's not sure if it's the pressure point working or if she's so focused on the repetitive motion, but she knows that she falls asleep in a matter of minutes. And this time, there aren't any guns or knives to greet her in her dreams.

* * *

**A/N: I realize this might not be the most original situation, but I hope you don't mind too much. If you were wondering, Auggie's Russian translates to "calm night"; I'm told it's a common way of saying goodnight.**

**Since you all were so awesome with giving me lines you liked last chapter, how about giving me a line/word that you _dis_liked in this one? The only way I'm going to improve is if someone lets me know what's wrong. But. . .you could always give me a little cushion comment so my ego doesn't suffer too much. ;)**

**We're halfway done. I hope you'll stay around for the next chapter (which I'll post next Wednesday). Thanks for reading!**

**Oh, one last thing I'd like to be upfront about: This fic _will_ be rated M by the time it is over. So, story alert me (if you haven't already) so you won't miss the last chapter. Anyone else think it's silly that M updates don't list on the main page?**


	3. Breathy

****

Happy Hump Day Everyone! It's also update day, so here's part three. I hope you enjoy it! If I could share my cupcakes and milk with you, I would. Unfortunately, you'll have to supply your own.

**Thank Yous: Again, I want to stress how much I appreciate all the reviews and the words of encouragment I've been receiving. Also, thank you to my beta, who shall henceforth be known as Phoenix, as per her request. She was especially helpful with the Spanish portions of this chapter. And a special thank you to Kira for giving me some useful constructive feedback on the last chapter. You're all awesome! :)**

**Notes: There is a scene in this chapter that is heavy on Spanish dialogue. I hope I made it clear enough for readers that don't know Spanish to still understand it. Also, please excuse Annie being slight OOC in that scene; my defense is that we haven't really seen her as an interrogator before, so we aren't 100% sure how she'd act.**

**Bonus Points: To the first person who correctly identifies my LOST reference. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Covert Affairs_ or any of it's characters. They belong to USA, NBC Universal, and a bunch of people with more money and power than I will ever have. I am not making any money from writing this.**

* * *

**Three: Breathy**

The following morning Annie wakes up to the smell of bacon. She clambers out of bed and tracks the scent to the kitchen, her eyes barely open.

"Good morning," Auggie says in a cheery tone when she sits down at the kitchen island.

"Uhn. . ." she groans.

"You didn't sleep well?"

"I did," she says. "I'm just not much of a morning person before coffee."

Annie rubs her eyes to clear the sleep out of them and runs a hand over her unbrushed hair. She watches him as he prepares their breakfast.

Auggie moves around the kitchen with ease and fluidity; it's like a dance he's performed over and over again. Every step is choreographed. He pours her a cup of coffee and puts it on the island before he turns back to the eggs in the skillet. Crunchy strips of bacon rest on a paper towel on the counter. He must have been through this routine a thousand times.

"I hope scrambled eggs are okay."

"Yum," she says.

Auggie portions the food out and places her plate mostly in front of her; he lays it down a little left of her actual center.

"It smells delicious," she praises, then takes a bite. "It is delicious."

"Thanks."

"Why is it that everyone in the world can cook better than me?" Annie asks of no one in particular.

Auggie still answers her. "You have other talents. Languages for one."

"Language skills aren't going to keep my stomach full and my tastebuds happy."

Annie's phone rings and she swallows a bite of bacon before answering. Joan is on the other end.

"Annie, I'm calling you in. The man who shot you, Rodrigo Garcia Sanchez, isn't giving us the information we need. I'd like you to try and convince him to give up his employer before we extract the information using more unpleasant methods."

"What kind of unpleasant methods?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss those procedures."

"Oh. I understand," Annie responds. "I'll do whatever you need me to."

Her boss hesitates for an extended second. "Are you sure you're prepared for this? Mentally, I mean. Because if you're not, Annie, for any reason, I need you to tell me now."

Annie's first reaction to Joan's proposal is immediate acceptance, but the concern in the director's voice makes her pause and reassess her decision. She looks at Auggie, but his head is tilted away from her, his hidden expression unhelpful. Annie's initial decision remains unchanged.

"I'll be there in half an hour," she says.

* * *

Annie marches into the office—wearing the last clean suit she has from her trip to California—practically dragging Auggie along beside her. For some reason that escapes her, Auggie keeps stalling and doing everything he can to delay them.

"It'd be nice if you'd tell me why you're so upset about this," she says, unable to mask her annoyed tone. "That frown hasn't come off your face since we got out of the car."

Auggie tries to rearrange his facial features—tries to rearrange his feelings so they won't give him away—but his frown only intensifies.

"I'm concerned, that's all."

"I'd appreciate a little support."

He makes her stop in the middle of the hallway and aligns her body so she faces him. "Annie, I will support you in anything that you do, ever. But that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

"What is with you?"

He glances down at the floor, his grip on her arms tightening slightly. "You're going to be in the same room as the man who shot you, who tried to kill you. You don't see a problem with that?"

"Auggie. . ."

"And I'm just supposed to stand there on the other side of that mirror and listen to it all?" His fisted hands drop to his sides. "I have to act like I don't want to go in there and punch the guy 'til he bleeds."

"That wouldn't take very long with these guns," Annie says lightheartedly, squeezing his bicep.

The corners of his mouth twitch upward in a hint of a smile, and with that the intensity of the moment is behind them. He's amazed at how easily she can neutralize a situation, and it brings him a certain amount of comfort. They start walking again, at a slower rate.

"If the interrogation comes to blows," Annie assures him, "I'll be sure to throw in a jab or two for you."

"Just be sure to make him squeal loud enough that I can hear clearly."

They walk into Joan's office with smiles on their faces. Annie closes the door behind them and suddenly all mirth in the room evaporates.

"Is he in on this too?" Annie asks her boss, indicating the other person in the office with a nod of her head.

"Not even a little 'hello'?" Jai asks.

Joan motions for them to sit, saying, "Jai is here in case you should need backup."

"She's going in there alone?" Auggie works hard not to grind his teeth together at the thought.

"We think it might be the best way to get Sanchez to talk," Joan responds, using Auggie's question as a segway to talk about their captive.

There's a short briefing on Sanchez's background, but besides a few cases of burglary and assault, there isn't much to tell. Joan stresses that the most important question—who Sanchez is working for—remains unanswered.

As a wrap up to the meeting Joan says, "Normally I wouldn't let a junior agent go into an interrogation alone their first time."

Annie gets the message. _Try not to screw this up._

* * *

Auggie fidgets outside of the interrogation room. He clenches and unclenches his hands around Annie's shoulder sling—the sling she removed and gave to him so she wouldn't look weak in front of Sanchez. He doesn't like this situation, not one little bit.

Annie takes a seat across from the man who attacked her in California and stares at him. She counts to five in her head, letting all of the fear, anger and other negative emotions inside of her reign free. After she reaches five, Annie shuts off the emotional side of her brain and starts working.

"Do you know who I am?"

"No hablo inglés."

"But I know you understand English. Even if you pretend you can't speak it."

She gets no response—in either language—from the man in front of her.

"I'll use small words, just in case," Annie says. "Tell me who you're working for."

"Crees que esto va a ser facil? No te voy a decir nada."

"Not going to talk? Listen, Sanchez, I can make this hard for you if that's how you wanna play this game."

Auggie hopes that she doesn't do anything drastic. His grip on the shoulder sling tightens.

Annie gets the answer she expects. "Estás mintiendo. No puedes hacer nada."

"You may think I'm lying, but let me let you in on a little secret, Rodrigo." Annie stands and begins to circle the table, continuing, "Only a handful of people know you're here. And I can assure you that none of those people would care if a suspected terrorist didn't emerge from this room with the ability to walk, or breathe."

Annie has to convince him that she's the one in control here; she has to convince herself that she's able to do this, even if she doesn't feel confident that she can.

"No puedes forzarme a hablar."

"You really think I can't get you to talk? I guess I gave your intelligence too much credit."

Annie knows Sanchez is small time—it's obvious from his short profile. In California, he just wanted to make some quick cash and not get his hands too dirty. If Annie pushes the right buttons hard enough, he'll give up his employer.

"Who hired you to kill Enrique Ignacio?" Any indication that she might grant him mercy vanishes from her voice and demeanor.

Sanchez's eyes start darting wildly; he's entering the fight or flight mode, except he doesn't have anywhere he can escape to. He's starting to buy into her bluff, but Annie realizes she's going to have to sell it a little more if she's going to get the information out of him.

Before Rodrigo can come up with a plan of his own, Annie grabs the front of his jumpsuit, yanks him to his feet, and forces him back against the wall of the interrogation room.

She grunts, not only form the effort of heaving a grown man out of his chair, but from the pain—the excruciating pain—that erupts in her shoulder region.

"What's going on in there?" Auggie asks on the other side of the glass.

"She has it under control," Joan responds. Auggie can hear the approval in her voice and doesn't know if that's a good thing or not.

"Who are you working for?" Annie yells into Sanchez's face. Spit flies from her mouth.

Sanchez cringes but remains tight-lipped. Annie lets her earlier anger creep into the fist forming at her side and lets her punch fly before she can control herself. Her fist digs into the stomach of her shooter.

"Damn," Jai says in compliment.

"Tell me." Annie pulls Sanchez up from his doubled-over position, seeing the fear and rage mix in his eyes.

"No."

A second jab to his gut steals the little remaining breath he has. The impact hurts Annie almost as much as it hurts Sanchez.

"He's not going to talk," Jai states.

"Hold on a minute. Just give her some time," Auggie says in her defense. He may not like what she's doing to herself, but he trusts her to get the job done. He knows how capable she is.

Annie's not sure how much longer she can hold out and act like this interrogation method isn't fazing her. She rams her knee into Sanchez's groin, knowing that it is the one area that would make any man beg for mercy.

Sanchez holds up his handcuffed hands as much as he is able in a gesture for her to stop.

"Su nombre es Lucas. Se llama La Mantis."

"Why did Lucas hire you to kill Enrique Ignacio?"

"No sé."

She manhandles him back into the aluminum chair, earning another screaming protest from her shoulder. She invades Sanchez's space until he cowers before her.

"Let's get something straight, Sanchez. This ends when you tell me everything I want to know. Not a minute before."

"Enrique era el hermano de Lucas," the man reveals begrudgingly.

That statement catches everyone but Sanchez by surprise.

"Why would Lucas want his brother killed?"

The man just glowers. Although the pain in her shoulder is so intense she feels physically ill, Annie musters the strength to deliver a nasty backhand to his face. The little bit of blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth almost makes the hit worth her suffering.

"Él intentó a vender su hermano a la policia y reveló información sobre los cargamentos."

"Shipments?"

Annie glares at him and makes another fist when he doesn't answer her quickly. Thankfully the threat is enough this time.

"De armas."

"Where were the weapons going?"

"¡No sé!"

"Don't make me hurt you again, Sanchez. You are really trying my patience."

He huffs, but there's no fight left in him. "A un cartél. Al cartel las manos del Diablo. Es todos. No sé más."

"Good girl," Joan says and taps her knuckles against the two-way mirror twice.

Annie glances at the mirror and works up a smile for Sanchez. Getting him to talk cost her a lot of pain, though she'll never let on to him.

"That's my signal," she says, reverting back to her normal tone. "Nice talking with you, Rodrigo."

"Pinche puta," Sanchez swears, "¡Te mataré!"

Annie's smile only grows at his curses. "You tried to kill me once before and it didn't work out too well, did it?"

* * *

"Good work, Annie," Joan says outside of the interrogation room. "Jai and Auggie will be able to follow up on this Mantis lead. We'll see if we can recover those guns if they're out there."

"What about me?" It's not lost on her that her name isn't mentioned in the follow up plans.

Joan gives her what passes as a sympathetic face. "I'm not putting you out in the field just yet. You're still a liability in your current state. I need you healthy."

"But. . ."

"Come back tomorrow, fully rested. I'll find something for you to do."

Joan leaves before Annie can protest further.

Jai sidles up to Annie. "That was an impressive performance."

"Yeah," Annie says dismissively. Now that her boss has walked away, the sting in her shoulder is crying for attention and she doesn't have the time to or inclination to flirt with Jai.

Jai picks up on her indifferent vibe and follows Joan, looking a little downtrodden.

Auggie raises the shoulder sling and she snatches it back more forcefully than he expects.

"You okay?" he asks. "Things sounded like they got really physical in there."

"I'll be back," she says without answering him. There's something wrong with the way she says it. Her voice sounds pained, like she's holding back a whimper.

Auggie decides to follow her, only stopping when he reaches the door of the women's bathroom. He waits outside, rather impatiently, listening.

Annie stands at the sink, blotting the tears under her eyes so her mascara doesn't run. The intense pain in her shoulder throbs with every movement, however slight. White spots crowd into her peripheral vision as she unbuttons her fitted jacket and slides it off inch by inch.

"Ah-ah," she cries out, not holding the sound back. After her jacket is off, Annie sees the real extent of the damage she's caused herself. A bright red circle bleeds into the fabric of her blouse like a twisted prom corsage. "Dammit, I love this shirt."

She unbuttons the rest of her white blouse and removes that garment as well, leaving her in her pants and a bra. The square patch of gauze covering her aggravated wound has a similar red stain in the center, except the color is deeper and the circle is larger.

Auggie can't wait outside any longer. The cries coming from the bathroom are too much for him to handle without offering her some kind of assistance.

"Annie?"

His voice startles her and makes her rip the gauze off more quickly than she planned. "Sonofa—"

"Are you all right?"

"To be honest, I'm a mess right now, Aug." She hates herself for snapping, but doesn't give him an apology either.

"You want me to give you some space?"

She shakes her head, forgetting that he can't see the motion.

"I can't hear your head rattle, you know."

"You can stay. My shoulder is what's causing the problem. I think I reopened my bullet wound."

"I'd offer to take a look, but. . ." He tries to make her feel better by drawing her attention away from her injury.

"Funny." She doesn't even crack a smile.

Annie pulls a few paper towels out of the dispenser and puts pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding. Auggie uses his laser guide to move toward her, but stops when he hits her discarded suit jacket and blouse on the floor. He bends and picks them up.

"Do you need to see a doctor?" he asks.

"No. I'll be fine. I just need to get it to stop bleeding so I can get home to your place."

He likes how she refers to his apartment as home, even though she's only stayed there two nights.

The door to the bathroom opens and a young woman walks in. She comes to an abrupt stop when she sees Auggie and the partially dressed Annie. Her eyes say everything her open mouth doesn't.

"It's not what it looks like," Annie says quickly—too quickly for the woman to believe her.

"I'll just use the restroom down the hall," she says. In another second the woman is gone.

"Wonderful," Annie says. "Now Joan is going to have to give me the whole 'office romance' talk again."

Auggie starts to laugh; at first it's just a chuckle, but it progresses into a hearty bout of laughter. The sound is so contagious that Annie starts laughing too, but she puts the index finger of her uninjured arm up to his lips to quiet him before they draw any more prying eyes into the bathroom. Even if the CIA encourages interoffice dating, she's pretty sure Joan won't be happy to hear about an interoffice, bathroom hookup.

Her finger is very effective in getting him to sober up. Still, a beat passes before she drops her hand to her side. Somehow they're only inches apart from each other now; it's like Annie's body is a piece of metal and Auggie's is the magnet.

He clears his throat and gets back to the serious issue of her shoulder. "You pushed yourself too hard, too fast."

"It was the only way to get information out of Sanchez."

"And it was the only way to show Joan that you're ready to come back."

"Which obviously failed."

"There's a reason she's the director. She sees through everybody. Joan knows that all you want is to be approved for field work again, but she's not going to let you kill yourself just because you mistakenly believe that you're ready."

"I don't need the I-told-you-so speech," she replies.

"Please, just. . .try and take it a little easier these next few days?"

She doesn't answer him, not sure if she can keep that promise or not. Annie trashes the towels and waits to see if the wound is still bleeding; it appears to have momentarily stopped.

"Could you help me get back into this?" She tugs on the suit jacket he's holding in his left hand.

Auggie holds up the blouse in his right hand. "Aren't you forgetting a step?"

"No, I just want the jacket."

"Suit yourself."

He holds her blouse in the crook of his elbow while he stretches the jacket out before him, holding it at chest level. Annie slips her arms into it and Auggie pulls it up to her shoulders. She suppresses a groan and fastens the three buttons in front. While her bra is visible, the skin below it is covered, which is good enough for Annie to get out of the building.

Auggie's hands rest on her back, smoothing invisible wrinkles. When he realizes what he's doing, he drops them to his sides, then pulls her sling out of his back pocket.

"I think you'll be wanting this too," Auggie says, lifting the sling above her head so she'll put it on. Annie lines herself up to make sure he doesn't miss his target.

"I, uh," Annie falters with her speech, "I think I should go before my shoulder starts bleeding again."

* * *

Annie soaks in another lavender bath. After this week, her skin is going to permanently smell like the flower. She also notices that there are only a handful of bath salts left, enough for one more round of relaxation.

The observation makes her sad. She doesn't want to use them. If she does, that means she's spent enough time at Auggie's apartment to heal. Just to check, Annie runs her fingertips over the cut on her face. Religious use of cocoa butter and two tubes of Mederma have made the once-puckered skin much smoother. She can still feel a slight bump—a raised portion of scar tissue—but if she really wanted to cover it up, she could.

Part of her is happy. She can't wait to see her sister again, to see all of her family again. She wants this whole mission to be put behind her.

But the other part of her—and she admits that part is significantly larger than the first—doesn't want things to return to what they were before any of this happened. She doesn't want to put her time with Auggie in a memory-file in her head. In truth, she's not sure she wants her stay with Auggie to end just yet.

These past few days have reminded her of what it's like to share her life with another human being. Ever since she was deserted by Ben in Sri Lanka, she hasn't been able to open up to anyone in the same capacity as she allowed herself to do with him; except for Auggie. Annie knows she has revealed more of herself to Auggie than to anyone else in the past three years. And she likes how it feels to share that level of trust—that level of intimacy—with someone and have those sentiments reciprocated.

She rinses off her body and exits the bathtub, wrapping up in a towel. Her mind keeps repeating the question she's afraid to answer: What, exactly, is between Auggie and me?

The truth is she doesn't know, and that scares her. If she could define their relationship as 'just friends' or 'just co-workers' she thinks she might be happier. But things aren't that easy between them. Like any worthwhile relationship, it's complicated. These few days have brought her to a realization that only edged the corners of her mind before: She feels more deeply for August Anderson than she knows is right on a professional or friends-only level.

Annie allows herself a sigh and makes it a good, long one; because that's the only one she'll let herself have. Whatever these feelings are she has for Auggie, she's going to let them run their course, for better or worse. If he should share her feelings. . .well, where would that put them exactly?

* * *

"It smells wonderful in here," Auggie says as he opens his apartment door. "I have good timing, don't I?"

"Very good timing. I hope you like it."

Auggie sits and reaches for the plates of food, smelling each item before deciding what to put on his plate; he ends up taking a bit of everything. He takes a bite and knows that Annie didn't have a hand in making this meal. It's a comforting thought.

"Mmmm," he murmurs, mouth full.

"I'd like to take the credit, but I didn't cook this. I ordered in."

"My apartment thanks you."

She throws a crispy green bean in his direction, laughing.

"I got it from. . ."

"Wait, let me guess."

"You'll never get it."

He chews and savors another piece of tender chicken, trying to identify the sauce. "Chen's Chicken, two blocks from here."

"Impressive."

They eat and enjoy the food in silence until their forks scrape against empty dishes. Annie cleans up while Auggie sits at the island.

Auggie takes a swig of his beer and says, "All Jai would do after you left was talk about that interrogation. I think you've dazzled him with your techniques."

Annie can sense that this conversation is not about her earlier interrogation. "What's between you and Jai?"

"I like to call it a friendly office rivalry."

"I see. So, are you are jealous of him, or is he jealous of you?"

"Oh, he's definitely jealous of me."

She smiles at his cocky tone. "You sound confident."

"Because, along with other reasons, I have the one thing he can't get."

"And what is that?"

"One Annie Walker." He doesn't make it seem like she's his possession. "He's jealous you spend more time around me instead of him."

"You're kidding."

"Don't you wish I was?"

Annie doesn't know what to say for a moment. She leans against the kitchen island, then says, "I mean, he's not a bad guy, but he's just not my type."

"Am I your type?"

The question catches her off-guard. Something in his voice tells her this is a serious question, not a joke.

"Maybe." Her throat is scratchy, like she needs a drink of water.

Annie notices again how close they are to one another and wonders how it happened. Perhaps her body is telling her what it wants, even if her brain isn't computing the information properly.

Auggie listens to the change in her breathing; she's taking deeper, shakier breaths, like she's nervous about something. The air travels in through her nose and out through her mouth. He can feel how close her mouth is to his just from the pressure of her exhalations.

Before she loses her nerve, Annie leans forward and brushes her lips against the side of his cheek, her lips just touching the corners of his mouth.

Auggie responds by bringing his hand to her face and lining her lips up with his, claiming them in a gentle kiss. He has wanted this to happen for a while, and he wants to savor the moment, so he keeps things slow. Even when Annie pushes him for more, he resists the urge to kiss her too aggressively.

Her hands travel up his body and entwine themselves in his hair. She wants him to really kiss her; she can tell that he's holding back. She never expected that he could be this gentle. But just because he's being gentle doesn't mean the kiss doesn't steal her breath away. Annie's body melds against his, and she catches his lower lip between her teeth before kissing him again.

Auggie grips her sides, lifts her up and sets her on the kitchen island. She's a little taller than him this way, and she tugs on the ends of his hair to tilt his face up to her. Auggie's hands run up and down her spine. One hand presses the back of her head closer to his lips, even though it is impossible for them to be any closer. The kiss remains sweet and tender, even as the heat between them grows.

Auggie's cell phone rings and jars them both from the haze they've created around them. Annie sees that she's sitting on the kitchen island now—with Auggie in between her legs—but isn't sure how they got in this position. It makes her blush.

She breaks away from him in stages. Her hands linger in his hair, then slide down his face and neck to his shoulders before finally dropping to the edge of the counter. Auggie's hands move from her back and head to rest on either side of her. Their foreheads rest against each other while they catch their respective breaths.

The phone rings for the fourth time and Auggie finally answers. "Yeah?"

"I need you to come back to the office," Joan tells him. "We found Lucas."

"It can't wait until tomorrow?" His voice is still a little breathy.

"Is there something that's keeping you?"

Auggie frowns but then says, "No."

"Then I'll see you within the hour."

Auggie hangs up and backs away from Annie. "I have to go in. They think they've found The Mantis."

"I guess that means no dessert."

"Not tonight," he apologizes. "Don't wait up. I think it's best I take the couch tonight."

Annie doesn't argue with him, though a part of her is disappointed.

Auggie quickly gathers his things and leaves. When the door slides closed, his apartment is cast into lonely silence. It's a similar silence to when Annie woke up alone that morning in Sri Lanka three years ago.

It's the sound left behind by the call of duty.

* * *

Auggie comes home, dog tired, around three o'clock in the morning. Joan ordered him to go home and get a few hours rest while the team—led by Jai—is assembled and sent on a direct flight to Columbia. It will be at least ten hours before they are in position to move in on their targets.

He tries to be as quiet as possible as he kicks off his shoes, not wanting to wake Annie. Even though he's exhausted, he decides to check on her before passing out on the couch.

Tiptoeing to the doorway, he listens for the even breathing of deep slumber.

Instead, he hears her kicking her way out of the sheets, whimpering softly. Her moves are almost frantic, like she's having another nightmare.

Without much thought—because he's not capable of higher intellectual thought in his current state—he climbs into the bed beside her, still fully clothed. Her hand flings out, hitting him in the chest, but Auggie closes his hand around hers and the contact stills her. She's turned so she is facing him.

"Aug?" Her voice is so soft that he wonders if she's addressing him or a dream version of himself.

He wraps his arm around her waist and gently tugs her closer. She inhales deeply and snuggles in against him, her face hidden in the curve of his neck. Her breath heats his skin, making him even sleepier.

His lips brush against her hairline of their own violation. It's a gesture he's only used with one previous girlfriend—one that he was in love with. He's never let another woman get as close to him as Annie is now. Not even Tash. Because, even though he loved Natasha, she didn't really know anything about him, not even what he did for a living. With Annie there are no lies, no big secrets. That knowledge makes him feel infinitely more connected to her, more intimate.

_I'm really getting myself into trouble with this one,_ he thinks, holding Annie tighter against him and banishing away all her nighttime monsters.

* * *

**A/N: I'm starting to think that I was really hungry whenever I wrote this. Food seems to be a common motif. *laughs***

**I'd love to know what you thought. Did Annie seem way OOC in that interrogation room? Did the Spanish throw you off? Did the kiss come out of left-field? Are you wondering how it all will end?**

**The last chapter will be up next Wednesday. And remember, it'll be rated M, so make sure the filter is off. I wouldn't classify the M scene as being too outrageous, but I'm covering my butt just in case. :)**


	4. Breathless

**Hey Everybody! Well, this is the last chapter. It's sad. Not the chapter, just that this is the end. For now. See my last note for insight on what that means. :)**

**Grab your midnight snacks or other munchies and enjoy!**

**Thanks: Phoenix, my wonderful Beta. This story wouldn't have started without you (literally, since you helped me plan it out). And thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited or alerted (and to all those who will). (This is my most alerted story! And it's only four chapters! Craziness!) Your kind words and encouragement make me all sorts of happy and giddy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Covert Affiars or any of the characters associated with it. If any form of this plot ends up on the show (hey, it's happened!) I don't own that either I guess. One day. . .**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Breathless**

Bright, early morning light startles Annie awake and out of her dream. It amazes her that she can be in a steamy dream one moment and be wide awake the next. She feels completely rested; the ache in her shoulder isn't as intense anymore either. Annie thinks her good night's sleep might be a gift from the man who left rumpled bedsheets behind when he got up this morning.

She's not sure when Auggie came home and snuck into bed with her, but she remembers the moment her nightmares ceased and a more pleasant dream took place—one in which Auggie was shirtless, pantless, and kissing her senseless. Even now the details flame to life in her mind, tempting her to go back to sleep.

One look at the bedside alarm clock tells her that is not a possibility. She's already overslept. Auggie must have turned the alarm off when he got up to shower. The water is still running in the other room.

Getting out of bed, she gets dressed in the cleanest clothes she can find in her disorganized suitcase. Annie hurries, not just because she's late, but because she doesn't know what to say to Auggie about last night's kiss. She still doesn't know how to feel about it; her mind can't process what happened. What she needs is stall time; more than she has.

When Auggie emerges from his shower, fully clothed, he hears Annie in the kitchen. Utensils clatter and drawers and cupboards bang shut. He wonders why she's in such a rush.

"Morning," he says. "You giving breakfast another go?"

"Just toast and butter this morning," she says in apology.

"So you _can_ cook something," he remarks, sinking his teeth into a semi-charred piece of toast and realizing he spoke too soon. He grimaces, but swallows, hoping that she doesn't see his reaction.

Apparently she is too distracted to notice and Auggie wonders what's on her mind. He wonders if their kiss in the kitchen last night is playing over and over again in her head as well. It's the only reason he can think of to explain her behavior.

"We running that late?" he asks.

"We probably have time to grab coffee and something to eat in the lobby." Annie pulls on her jacket but foregoes wearing her shoulder sling.

"No big deal. I wasn't really hungry," he says.

"Me neither."

He covers the burnt toast with a napkin and subtly pushes it in the trash. There's no reason to hurt her feelings.

"I'm ready," Auggie says.

"All right. Let's go."

They head for the door, grabbing an umbrella and their trench coats on the way, ready for stormy D.C. weather.

* * *

Annie honks the horn, frustrated at the bumper to bumper traffic. It is the first significant sound to fill the car's interior.

The silence between them is killing her. She's never felt this nervous or self-conscious around Auggie. She hates it. It almost makes her regret their kiss, but only just. Why the kiss has them both so jumpy and acting like a pair of bumbling juveniles is a mystery.

But Annie's not going to let one little kiss—however amazing—screw up their relationship. If a romantic relationship isn't possible—and who says it's not, or if that's even what she wants right now—she will do her best to get them back to where they were before last night. This silence cannot, will not, be tolerated.

"Aug. . ."

"Ann. . ."

They speak the first syllables of their names simultaneously. Annie smiles; great minds. . .

"Go ahead," she offers.

"No, you go."

"I don't really know what I was going to say," she admits truthfully.

"Me either. But one of us has to say something."

She nods in agreement. "This whole teenage awkwardness thing is beneath us. We are adults and we will handle this like adults."

"Right."

"It was just a kiss."

"Right." He doesn't know how to tell her any different, even though she's wrong.

"Right?"

They both laugh at the repetitive answer, but it's a fake sound and not fooling either of them; they're only fooling themselves by pretending there isn't something between them. They sober up quickly and the car is cast back into an unbearable, even more awkward silence.

Annie rolls down the window; the air in the car is suffocating.

Auggie opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again. He wants to say that they can't get carried away like that again because they work together and things would get complicated. He wants to ask her to stay at his apartment a little longer because he likes having her there. He wants to tell her that it wasn't just a kiss; not to him.

He says nothing.

Annie glances over at Auggie and sees the deep furrows on his brow, sees his mouth forming unspoken words, like he's struggling with what to say. She's in a similar situation and is relieved to know she's not alone. Then she realizes that her mouth is mimicking his and comes close to smiling. Instead, she snaps her jaw shut so suddenly that her teeth catch the side of her tongue and she winces from the twinge of pain.

Annie wants to thank him for helping her out and giving her a place to crash while she recovered. She wants to say how much it means to her to have someone there when she needs him. She wants to tell him that last night wasn't a heat-of-the-moment reaction—the intensity of the kiss was certainly unexpected, but similar feelings and desires have been itching under her skin for months.

She wants to say a hundred different things to him, but her body won't let her. Because what if Auggie turns out to be like Ben after all? What if he just up and leaves one day? Even if it's a slim possibility, she can't handle that again. It's taken her three years to get this far, to get over Ben's betrayal.

They arrive at headquarters without saying another word to each other. Still, Auggie uses Annie as his guide into the building instead of his laser and it gives her hope that they will be able to put this behind them and get back to normal. Maybe it'll happen sooner than she thought.

Annie touches his forearm when he moves to disappear inside his office without her. He stops and turns back to face her.

"Auggie," she says, "We're okay, right?"

She sounds so worried; her voice is a little shaky. He squeezes her good arm and gives her a reassuring smile.

"We're okay."

"Really?"

"Annie, if you wanna act like nothing happened, I get it. We'll just chalk the kiss up to flirtation gone awry."

She pauses for an extended second, then says, "You call that kiss flirtation? I think you're underestimating your prowess."

"Oh, I never underestimate," he says with a wink and a devilish grin. "That kiss was nothing compared with what I'm capable of."

She clears her throat. "I'll have to take your word on that one."

"I'd be more than happy to demonstrate." He opens his arms in invitation.

"Joan's waiting for me."

"Ah, the old, 'I have work to do' copout." Auggie shrugs. "Your loss."

Her mood lightens as their normal banter returns. She begins to walk away, but says over her shoulder, "What? No rain checks?"

She hears his grin in his voice. "In your case, I'll make an exception."

* * *

"We're in position," Jai tells Auggie through his headset.

Auggie scans over the schematics of Lucas Ignacio's hideout—located in a warehouse just outside the capital of Colombia—with his fingertips and relays the information to Jai. Everything appears clear and ready for the taking, but Auggie isn't letting his guard down this time; this time no one on his team is getting shot or ambushed. Only the enemy will be taken by surprise.

"We have visual on Ignacio."

"Take him down, Jai. Bring him in." The anger in his voice betrays him.

"We'll get him, Auggie. I'll get him."

"Joan wants him alive, but. . ." He lets his statement trail off, telling Jai what he thinks of that order.

"He won't make it back to the States without a few bruises," Jai promises.

Auggie appreciates the gesture. Even if he and Jai don't always see eye to eye, they both care about Annie and will make sure the man who hired her would-be killer doesn't get away without a scratch.

After final confirmations, Jai and his team go radio silent. Auggie remains poised at his computer, ready to react if something goes wrong. This time, though, he has a feeling all will go according to plan.

* * *

Annie isn't sure she heard her boss correctly. "You want me to do what?"

"It's only for a few days."

Joan leads her to a tiny, claustrophobic room and switches on the light. The behemoth machine standing against the wall mocks her as it buzzes to life. Annie crosses her arms and gives her employer a not-so-subtle evil eye. Joan frowns at her body language, but continues telling Annie about her task.

"I assume you know how to work a copier?"

"I think I can handle it."

The snappy tone of her voice garners an even colder response from Joan.

"I know you're not happy with this assignment, Annie, but you wanted to do something at the Agency and this is where I need you."

"I'm a trained CIA field operative. Not a secretary."

Joan shakes her head once, exhaling in minor annoyance, though there is a slight smile on her lips.

"You are an agent recovering from a bullet wound. And you are a valuable asset to the Agency," Joan assures her without making it sound like praise. The hard edge is gone from her voice now.

"You sure have a way of showing it," the younger woman mumbles under her breath.

Joan ignores her words of malcontent and considers her a moment. "Annie, how long have you been here now?"

"Almost a year."

"And how long do you think you'll stay with us?"

Annie's never really thought about that question. "Until I'm not needed anymore."

It feels like the truth.

"A long time," Joan translates. "Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Annie nods.

"I have no doubt in my mind that you will be a top agent someday. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't look after one of the Agency's most promising agents. Understood?"

Annie nods again. She's pretty sure Joan slipped in a compliment there, and she'll take what little recognition she can get from the woman at this point.

Joan continues, saying, "I know you wanted to help bring down Ignacio's operation, but there will be a dozen other Lucas Ignacios during your assignment at the DPD."

"I understand."

"Good." Joan pivots in the small space and moves to leave. She stops at the copy room entrance. "Oh, and Annie?"

"Yeah?"

"Office gossips do talk. You're a spy. Try and be a little more covert next time?"

Once she's sure Joan is gone, Annie rams the palm of her hand onto her forehead. How to keep an misconstrued office hookup under wraps might be the most humiliating piece of advice a boss has ever given her.

* * *

Auggie smiles all the way down to the cafeteria. In less than ten minutes, Jai's team took down Lucas Ignacio's entire operation. More importantly, there were no casualties. The only injury was to Lucas himself—shot by Jai in the back of his leg when he tried running away from the warehouse. Auggie thinks it's an appropriate punishment for the coward.

Lucas' followers gave up the location of the weapons—which hadn't been shipped yet—without so much as a threat. Now every gun and round of ammunition destined for the hands of terrorists is in CIA custody.

He walks up to the deli counter, waiting his turn in line. He thinks he should share the good news with Annie right away. Besides, she could probably use a lunch break. Another tech told him about the copy room and Auggie feels bad that Annie's still too new to the department to know about all of Joan's tricks. He knows firsthand how terrible it is to be assigned to the copy room.

"Well what's got you so smiley today?" Alicia, the deli clerk, asks him when it's finally his turn.

"Pride is a powerful endorphin."

"And here I was hoping you were happy to see me."

Although he'd normally flirt back, he doesn't respond to her. He can't explain why he does it. He's known Alicia since before he lost his vision; he knows how beautiful she is. But something in him just doesn't want to play the game.

A little spurned, she asks, "What can I get for you?"

Auggie gives his order, being as polite as possible. Why is it that he doesn't want to act the player and be the office flirt? He still flirts with Annie, so why does it feel so wrong to do it with anyone else?

Alicia gives him his sandwich and rings him up without giving him his usual discount. Auggie doesn't take offense, and he still leaves her a generous tip in the jar on the counter. As he takes the elevator to his floor, he ponders the oxymoron: monogamous flirt.

* * *

"Work you stupid piece of junk!" Annie yells at the photocopier when the monitor reads "paper tray jam" again. It's the third time the message has been displayed in the past hour.

Annie slams the unjammed paper tray closed and punches the buttons with much more force than necessary.

"You're working him much too hard," Auggie says as he scans his way into the cramped room—though it would more properly be called a closet. The smell of grilled turkey floats in with him.

"You'd think the CIA could afford a copier manufactured after 1980."

"He's a veteran. A little respect might go a long way."

Annie huffs and reaches for Auggie's hand, then places it on a pile of miscellaneous files and papers as high as his chest.

"This pile goes straight to the floor."

Auggie smiles at her aggravated tone of voice. "Annie, relax. You don't have to finish it all today."

"Are you kidding? I don't want to be here forever. Joan's liable to keep me here until I die due to blood loss from paper cuts."

"This stack of papers will never get smaller."

"Oh yes it will."

"Your determination is admiring, but even if you manage to make a dent, it'll be filled by tomorrow."

"What are you saying?"

"Joan pulls old case files—ones that have long since been put on a computer database—and stacks them here."

"Why would she make me print copies of useless information?"

Auggie laughs softly and wraps an arm around her shoulders, taking care not to squeeze too hard and upset her healing bullet wound. The smell of turkey gets closer and Annie's stomach alerts her to the fact that she's starving with a low growl.

"This isn't a real job assignment, Annie. It's more or less a self-run therapy session."

"Come again?"

"Joan uses this copy room for its 'therapeutic qualities'. By making you do monotonous work, she's giving you time to reflect, to regroup, to heal."

Annie starts to follow him.

"Did she assign you here?"

"I made copies for almost two weeks straight. I probably made it through three of four of these piles. And, believe it or not, it helped. Has it helped you?"

Annie thinks about it for a minute and realizes that it really has made her reflect on her time in California. Having only the ancient copier to fight gave her a chance to evaluate her performance. It wasn't too pretty.

"I should have listened to my instincts out there," she admits, "Every part of me was saying the situation was wrong."

"Everyone second guesses themselves at times."

"I could've gotten myself killed. I almost did."

Auggie does squeeze her slightly now. "But, you're here."

Annie smiles with him, then decides they've had enough of the heavy discussions for the day. She reaches for the brown paper bag in Auggie's other hand.

"What's in here?"

"Turkey and bacon panini with lettuce, tomato and a little bit of mayo."

Annie looks at him, mouth slightly ajar, as he rattles off her favorite lunchtime indulgence.

"Is it for me?" she asks, even as he hands her the bag. "But, how did you. . ."

"After working with someone for a year, you get to know them pretty well. I thought you could use a little reprieve."

"You're a godsend," she says. Without any inner debate, she kisses him on the cheek, then pulls back a few inches from his face, wondering what his reaction will be.

Auggie reaches up to caress her cheek and keep her close. The tips of his fingers run along the skin where her attacker's blade cut her, but instead of finding an angry scab, he feels only a small bump.

"It's smooth," he says quietly.

That wasn't the response she was hoping for and it jars her out of her momentary daydream.

Annie pulls back from him fully and runs another folder of papers through the copier, even though she doesn't have to.

"I'm going back to my sister's tomorrow."

The announcement is delivered flatly and he can't get a read on her mood. Auggie knows he's not happy about her leaving so soon, but he doesn't know how to convey his feelings.

"Makes sense," he says because it does. She's been off on her Smithsonian trip long enough already. If she stays too much longer, her sister will have questions that Annie can't answer.

His indifference hits her harder than she expected. She didn't want him to beg her to stay with him or anything else so dramatic, but to not care at all—as though he invites women to stay at his apartment while they recover from battle wounds all the time—hurts. It hurts a lot.

"I'm sure you'll be glad to have your place to yourself again," she says quietly.

Auggie hears the sadness creep into her voice and tries to patch things up. He doesn't want her to feel like she's been a nuisance to his life; she's been the exact opposite—an enrichment.

"We should go out tonight. Celebrate your recovery."

Annie realizes she misjudged his first reaction. He is just as upset by her decision as she is. He was just looking at the situation rationally instead of emotionally.

"At Allen's?" she asks.

"I was thinking somewhere a little more upscale, if you're okay with that."

"I'd really like that," she says and means it. When her stomach growls, she adds, "But let's eat lunch first."

They sit on the floor, backs against the whirring copy machine, and split the sandwich.

* * *

It feels like rain. At the pace they're strolling along, Auggie knows that they'll get caught in it before they reach his apartment. The umbrella they left with that morning rests forgotten in his office. Still, he doesn't hurry Annie along.

Auggie leads for a change. They walk the few blocks back to his apartment because Annie doesn't trust herself to drive. She's not drunk, but she's too tipsy to be behind the wheel for the next few hours. Auggie guides them along easily, Annie's arm slung through his. He's acutely aware of how the side of her breast brushes up against his bicep. Her grapefruit perfume lingers on the fabric of his shirt and fills his nose every time he inhales.

They talk all the way home: about dinner, about the way their waitress wouldn't stop drooling over Auggie, about bringing Lucas down.

About a block before his apartment, it pours. Auggie tries to speed up so they don't get soaked, but Annie reins him back.

"I love the rain," she tells him.

She giggles and shakes her head back and forth, droplets of water flinging from her wet hair and splashing against his cheek. He can't remember the last time that he let himself enjoy the sensation of rain on his skin.

Annie sees the grin creep onto his face, sees the way his shoulders relax and his head tilt up to relish in the feeling of the water. She loves him when he's like this around her: the real Auggie. He's not coming up with witty comments or making light of his blindness as a defense mechanism. He's just August Anderson.

Seeing him like this reminds her of her impending departure, that she won't see him like this again until who knows when? That thought spurs her into action. Annie gives in to her urge—the one she's been fighting since last night—and kisses him.

Caught off guard, Auggie stumbles back into the wall of his apartment building, the contact knocking the breath out of him. She clings to the lapels of his cardigan and presses her mouth to his again. It's a gentle kiss at first, but it becomes more demanding when he responds to her. He rests his hand on her lower back and pulls her in closer.

He kisses her until they are both breathless, then moves his lips along her neck, down to her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, then back up to her lips. There is an urgency that blooms between them, a need that can't accurately be named, but they feel it consuming them from the inside out.

Her right hand lifts the hem of his drenched shirt, her fingers exploring the planes of his chest, counting his abs as she moves up. The fabric molds to her hand on his torso, and even though the rain is cold, his skin is hot against her fingers.

"We should go inside," Auggie suggests, voice gruff.

Annie nods her head against his chest, still trying to regulate her breathing.

The trip up to his apartment is a bumpy one because they can't keep their lips or hands off each other long enough to walk effectively. It doesn't help that one of them is blind and neither are completely sober. They'll both have bruises in the morning from running into walls and door handles on the way down the hall.

Once inside the apartment, the first article of clothing to go is Auggie's cardigan. Then his shirt. Auggie makes quick work of her blouse as well, capitalizing on the short moment their bodies are disconnected.

Their hands roam over each other's skin. Rivulets of water from their hair and wet clothes stream down their bodies. Annie loves how her hands glide over his skin, loves how his lips seem to know all the spots that make her knees give out.

They work on unzipping each other's pants, stepping out of them and into each other.

"Protection?" Annie asks, groaning as Auggie catches her earlobe between his teeth.

"Bedroom," he says, stepping in that direction.

In the bedroom, things slow down. Auggie removes his boxer briefs—there's no use trying to hide his erection—and puts on the condom. It's pretty clear why all the women are attracted to him, and it's not because he's a cute blind guy.

Annie cups the sides of his face while she kisses him again. He unclasps her bra and slowly lowers them to the bed. Then he breaks away from her and runs his hands up her legs until he reaches her underwear. He grips the fabric and tugs it down her hips, sliding them off completely and tossing them on the floor.

Auggie kneels on the bed in between her legs but doesn't make any move to enter her.

"What is it?" she asks. If he stops here, she doesn't know what she'll do.

"Close your eyes," he says, "Don't watch. Just feel."

Even though she wants to see everything, she does as he asks. "Okay."

Auggie leans down and brushes his lips over hers again, then kisses both of her closed eyelids. His fingers touch the insides of her wrists and follow her arms all the way up to her shoulders. He kisses each shoulder, then lets his hands precede his mouth down her center, between the swells of her breasts, down to her navel. He caresses the sides of her torso, his touch so light that Annie whimpers from the sensation.

No one—not even Ben—has ever touched her like Auggie is touching her now. The tenderness he's showing her makes her feel cherished, like he's memorizing her with his hands, creating a mold of her in his mind so he will never forget her. Even if she was capable of speech right now, she wouldn't have words to tell Auggie how he's making her feel.

After teasing the inside of her thighs and kissing the outline of her pelvic bone, he comes back up to her lips. She kisses him back with force, telling him that she wants him, that she's ready.

Auggie takes the hint. Starting at her lips, he trails a hand down the center of her body, then rotates his palm at the top of her pelvic bone until his fingers slide into her. Annie groans as her back arches into his touch. He adds another finger and the sensation is overwhelming. She grips the sheets at her sides and tries to control her panting.

He continues to stroke her, almost bringing her to climax. When her breathing comes as short rasps between her moans, Auggie removes his fingers and replaces them with himself.

Their combined cries and crescendoing moans fill the apartment until neither one of them can see, hear or think.

All they can do is feel.

* * *

The scent of lavender surrounds them.

Annie leans her head to the side so Auggie can kiss along her neck. Her back is pressed to his chest, her body resting between his legs. While he kisses her, Auggie dips the loofa into the bathwater, then scrubs up and down her arms gently. Annie traces circles into the skin of his thighs.

She keeps staring at the empty bottle of bath salts across from her, becoming more and more apprehensive as the water cools around them. She has to say something now, or whatever is between them might be lost when she leaves tomorrow.

"Auggie?"

"Hmm?" he hums, his mouth on her shoulder.

"I, uh, was wondering. . .I was wondering if you'd come to dinner at my sister's this Thursday."

He stops kissing her, but his free hand slips around her waist and his fingers splay over her stomach.

"You're inviting me home?" he asks. "That must mean something."

"I'm not sure what it means." She runs her fingernail over the top of the water in front of her, concentrating on making a figure eight pattern. "I just know I'd really like you to be there, with me."

"I'll accept on one condition."

"What?" She can hear the mischievous tone in his voice and wonders what he's up to.

"That after dinner, we have dessert in your room."

He turns her head to the side to capture her lips with his. There's no question in her mind as to what sort of dessert Auggie is talking about.

"I think that can be arranged," she answers when he lets her breathe. "But we'll have to be quiet."

"I'm not sure if that's possible. You were quite. . .vocal earlier."

He nibbles at the base of her ear, making her moan just to prove his point.

"You were pretty loud yourself," she responds, grinding into him with her backside until he groans and grips her sides so she'll stop.

"Point taken."

They sit quietly for a few minutes, soaking in the tub, afraid to let go of one another.

"Do you think we could make it work?" Annie asks quietly. She knows she doesn't have to specify what the 'it' is.

"Are you willing to go down that rabbit hole?" Auggie asks, voice lowered to match her volume.

"I don't think dating at the CIA is comparable to the challenges Alice faced in Wonderland."

"No? I thought it was a good analogy. It'll be a challenge."

"A fact Joan reminds me of often."

"I want to give us a chance," he says sincerely.

She doesn't hesitate. "Me too."

Soon the water is too cold for them to stay in the bathtub any longer. They get out and dry each other off. Annie takes the empty bottle of bath salts off of the tub shelf and tosses it into the trash.

"No more bath salts," she says a little wistfully.

"I'll have to buy you some more."

"Do I have to wait until I get shot again? It might be a while."

She laughs, but Auggie shakes his head, not wanting to be reminded of why he bought them for her in the first place. "Can we come up with a different occasion, please?"

She thinks for a moment. "My birthday's only two weeks away."

He likes that occasion much better. "Sounds like a plan."

"And Auggie?"

Her playful tone tells him she's smiling. "Yeah?"

"Can we make it massage oil this time?"

He grabs her and pulls her in for another kiss.

"Definite deal."

* * *

**A/N: First, I want to address the sex scene. Ha. I know it may seem rushed (when all of you commended me on having them take things slow), but my rationalization is that spending that much time with someone (that you're already attracted to) would speed up the whole process. Add in the fact that Annie's going back to her sister's in the morning, plus a little alcohol to reduce inhibitions and there you go: Auggie/Annie sexy time. ;)**

**So, half-way through posting this story, I realized that I'll probably be doing some type of sequel. Don't hold me to it yet, because I've got other projects in the works, but I would like to continue this story. I'm just throwing it out there that it's a possibility. Anyone interested?**

**I've probably mentioned the angsty-romantic piece I have in the works, but I'm going to promote it some more. Why not? It's progressing nicely. Still, I'd like to be five or so chapters in before I start posting. I already have a Beta Reader for it, but if anyone's interested in letting me bounce ideas/plot bunnies off of them, let me know in a review or PM. I like having multiple opinions. :)**

**I'm going to take a week off from writing, but I'll be back on the 27th with a Halloween inspired oneshot that popped into my head earlier today.**

**Thank you for reading! Leave me a review with your final thoughts? I'd love it if you did! :)**


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